


holding each other up

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [30]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:33:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what if Dougal didn't arrange or even suggest Claire and Jamie's wedding and Randall came round looking to arrest her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at [ Imagine Claire & Jamie](http://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/140156331049/dont-know-if-this-has-been-covered-already-but) on tumblr

It had been a long night in the room above the tavern.  She wasn’t cold – the roaring fire in the hearth faithfully pumped heat into the small, close room. Her mind had raced – thoughts of Frank, of the Jacobite uprising, of the poor men who had been unjustly crucified on the windswept moor.

And of Jamie - his kind eyes – his adorable awkwardness. And that searing touch, two nights before -  

At dawn she finally stood and gazed through the grimy window at the courtyard below. A dark-haired, kilted man slowly crossed her field of view – Rupert, or Angus, or Willie? Definitely not Willie – this man was much larger around the middle. Rupert, then – likely sent by Dougal to check on the horses.

And then Claire’s heart froze. For a quartet of redcoated soldiers clopped into the dooryard – led by a man who she could identify just from how he carried himself, even though his tricorne hat obscured his face.

Black Jack Randall. He’d found her.

Absently she rubbed the spot on her stomach which Randall had punched the previous day. She knew a bruise was already blooming there. Between his loving cruelty – and the savagery she knew he possessed, after caressing Jamie’s back that one time – she knew that whatever the captain had in mind, it would not be pleasant.

For Dougal had refused to hand her over to the Captain yesterday, insisting that the Captain had no right to summon anyone like a common soldier. She had trusted his judgment – but now found herself doubting.

Would this man take her away again? What would happen to her? What if he found Jamie?

She watched Randall and his men dismount – almost as if she was in a dream. This couldn’t be real. Her mind raced in all directions, a thousand thoroughly unpleasant scenarios flitting behind her eyelids.

Footsteps on the landing – and a hesitant knock.

“Claire?”

Jamie. Surely he’d know what to do –

Quickly she crossed the room and flung open the door. “He’s here.”

Jamie nodded, hair still mussed from sleep. Dimly Claire realized that he must have slept outside of her door again – a wadded blanket, which must have been his makeshift pillow, lay abandoned on the top step of the landing.

“I know. We have no time. You must do exactly as I say.”

“But Randall can’t know that you’re here – ”

He set his jaw and grabbed her shoulder, holding tight. “Do as I say. Please.”

All protests died on her lips – and she nodded.

“Good. Come down wi’ me, then.”

Quietly she closed the door behind her, following Jamie down the creaking stairs to the taproom. She blinked in the half-light, recognizing Murtagh standing by the fire. And Dougal, quickly spooning parritch into his mouth. Jamie nudged her to sit at one of the tables, and he slid onto the bench beside her.

She could almost see the tension in the room – fearing that even by breathing, it would become too much. So they waited. And waited.

And then the door burst open, and Black Jack Randall tumbled into the room.

Dougal rose in challenge.

“You forgot to bring me something yesterday,” the captain sneered. “Your most prized possession. I was waiting for you at Fort William – I’d even set a place for her at my dinner table.”

His cold eyes lighted on Claire – and bugged when he saw Jamie beside her.

“Two of my most favorite people,” he purred. “How convenient. I only brought the one extra horse – but I trust the two of them can fit on it. Even if he *is* a big lad.”

“I’ll no’ surrender either of them to ye,” Dougal said quietly. Menacingly. “I am on lands owned and governed by my clan. An English officer cannot compel a Scottish person unless there is proof a crime has been committed – and even so, cannot force a Scottish subject from clan lands wi’out permission from the laird concerned.”

Randall’s head swiveled to face the war chief. “Have you turned lawyer, then? Perhaps that works for the fox cub – but not for the lady. She’s English – a subject of the crown.”

Jamie suddenly gripped Claire’s hand under the table – a signal. This was it.

Jamie slowly rose to face the man who had disfigured him. Tortured him. Taunted him. Savaged him. And spoke four words that would change the course of his life.

“She’s no’ English anymore.”

Randall’s dark eyes – pools of unfeeling black – narrowed. “Oh? Are you saying she’s French, then? Spanish, perhaps? Did some identity papers materialize in the past two days?”

Claire watched the muscle in Jamie’s jaw clench – strung tightly. “She’s a Scot now. We handfast – the two of us. That’s as legally binding as marriage, under Scottish law.”

Claire’s heart stopped. Dear God – he was brave. But what the hell was he talking about? They’d only exchanged pleasantries since she’d returned from her audience with Randall, two days prior –

And then it hit her. By claiming they’d handfast, she was a Scot now. Not subject to English law, as long as she remained on MacKenzie lands. But surely Randall would realize that the event hadn’t actually happened –

“It’s true. I witnessed it,” Murtagh said gruffly from his perch by the fire. “Last night, after we arrived here. They both wanted it – so I witnessed it.”

Jamie lay a strong hand on Claire’s shoulder. Claiming her in front of his uncle, and godfather, and the man who was the literal embodiment of his nightmares. He pressed his palm into her shoulder – and she felt the tremor within his capable fingers. Dear God, Jamie was brave.

Randall tilted his head, inquisitive. Watching the two of them. Cold. Calculating. Claire was seized with a desire to take a long, hot bath to wash the stain that man’s eyes had left on her dress.

“I see I’ve been mistaken, then. My apologies.” He tipped his hat. “My congratulations on your – marriage. May I ask – was it consummated?”

“It was,” Claire heard herself reply. “More than once, if you care to know.”

Jamie dug his blunt nails into her shoulder.

Randall’s lips twisted into an unfeeling smile. “I daresay. She must be a lioness in bed.”

Claire felt Jamie straighten – strong, confident. “She is.”

Dougal just stared at them, shaking his head.

“Good day to you, then,” Randall remarked, turning around on his heel and slamming the rough-hewn tavern door behind him.

Jamie sank, deflated, next to Claire. Not caring a whit, he buried his face into the lovely curve of her neck, breathing deep. She held him. They felt each other’s pulses racing.

She looked over Jamie’s head to see Murtagh smiling – or as much as he could smile, with that thick beard covering more than half of his face. And then she turned her gaze to Dougal.

Gingerly, Rupert and Angus slipped through the back door and stood beside their chief. They knew they had missed something –

Jamie wrapped his arms around Claire and held on like a drowning man clinging to driftwood. Seized by a tenderness she had no idea she possessed, Claire kissed the curls on the crown of his head, inhaling his scent. Wanting to make what he had said had passed between them a reality. It startled her – but it was so right. He was so right. He had risked capture for her – risked his life for her. More than any man, in any time, would have ever sacrificed for her.

She held him tight. Dougal slowly crossed the room, his bootsteps echoing in the cavernous silence.

“Christ, it would be easier to kill ye both.”

“But much harder to explain.” Jamie’s voice was muffled against the flesh of Claire’s neck – where he’d been gently sucking the tender flesh.

Claire drew him closer.

Dougal’s eyes narrowed.

“Did ye really handfast?”

Jamie sighed and sat up straight, meeting his uncle’s gaze, fingers entwined through Claire’s.

“We can right now – wi’ a lot more witnesses.”

He stood – and extended one arm to help Claire to her feet.

“I’m thinking by the fire would be nice. And then we can go back upstairs for a wee bit? And the men can spend the rest o’ the day celebratin?”

“I saw storm clouds on the horizon,” Rupert piped up helpfully. “There will be rain afore too long. And we’ve been on the road for so long – ”

“Aye – the muddy roads arena good for the horses, ken?” Angus added. “And besides – the ale here is quite delicious – ”

Dougal sighed. Murtagh – now standing at Jamie’s elbow – clapped his godson on the back. Jamie turned to Claire, and hand in hand, they stepped toward the roaring fire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this takes place right before the previous chapter.
> 
> Originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](http://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/141782503635/hello-imagine-if-dougal-didnt-choose-jamie-and) on tumblr.

Jamie slowly chewed the stale bannock as the men around him argued over who would check the horses tonight and who would check them in the morning. His stomach curdled in anger at their self-centeredness – they had all seen just how shaken Claire had been by her encounter with that mad bastard Randall yesterday, and yet none of them had lifted a finger to ask after her wellbeing.

Dougal told him that the madman had punched her in the stomach – and Jamie’s quick eyes hadn’t missed how she secretly rubbed the tender spot at her middle several times this morning and afternoon. She shouldn’t be on horseback, not while that part of her body – which twisted and turned in tandem with the horse – was still so sensitive. Yet none of the men had paid notice. He knew she didn’t want them to – knew that she’d stubbornly suffer in silence, as she had almost every step of this damn journey since they’d left Leoch.

And as soon as they had arrived at this dank tavern, she’d rushed upstairs, clearly craving solitude – and no man had asked after her. No man seemed to wonder about her well-being.

He gripped his cup of ale a bit tighter. A true man should care for any woman entrusted to his protection. And especially this woman – this beautiful, mysterious woman who had appeared out of thin air. Whose strength and grace and fortitude and sharp tongue - together with her riotous hair, whisky eyes, and her face so effortlessly beautiful that it broke his heart – had deepened his bone-deep love for her. Strengthened his desire to protect her from everything that was dangerous and violent and evil in the world.

She deserved care, and deference, and respect. And if no man in this godforsaken party would give it to her, then he would.

As he swallowed another mouthful of the weak ale, contemplating how to avoid getting drawn into the conversation about the horses – he heard her name on his uncle’s lips.

“…Randall requested she be delivered to Fort William today – and ye ken weel that we didna do as he asked. It’s only a matter of time afore he comes around again asking for her.”

Jamie glanced across the table at Murtagh. His face was angled toward his own meager meal, but by the tilt of his head Jamie could tell that he was listening to the conversation at the next table as well.

“And just what do you propose we do, then?”

“Ye’re the lawyer – shouldn’t *I* be the one asking questions?”

Jamie brought the mug up to his lips again, holding it in a pantomime of a long drink – counting the beats of his heart.

Dougal sighed. “We need to remove the source of the immediate conflict. She’s English. If what ye told me is correct – that if she were to become a Scot, then the captain would have no claim to her – then that’s the answer. Marry her off.”

Jamie choked on his ale. Angus turned from his argument with Rupert, helpfully thumped him on the back, and took the uneaten bannock from Jamie’s plate.

“But to who, then? Willie is a bit young, though I’m sure he’d care for her properly – ”

“I was thinking Rupert. He’s loud enough to drown out anything she says. And he kens his way wi’ women, so that should keep them both occupied for a few days until the captain moves on.”

Jamie carefully set down the mug, mindful of just how badly his fingers were shaking. Rage – hot and red – rose within him. How dare they. How dare they talk of her as if she was a common whore, worthy of no respect or consideration. She was a nuisance to them. And if Dougal had his way –

He turned to watch Rupert across the table. The MacKenzie tacksman was busy licking his fingers, in the middle of delivering a very rude joke – now that the arrangements with the horses had been settled. Under no circumstances would he ever treat Claire with the respect she deserved. Never would he have any kind of interesting conversation with her – and never would he touch her with the gentleness and tenderness that she commanded.

No.

No.

_No._

Jamie quietly rose. He would keep watch at her door, then. There was no telling when Dougal would set his plan in motion, but he’d be damned if he let Claire be taken in the middle of the night. He could protect her now – when she must be feeling so alone, confused, and hurt – and see where things stood in the morning.

As he rounded the corner of the table, Murtagh grabbed his wrist. “Dinna tell her,“ he hissed. “I ken it isna right, but ye canna stand against him now.”

“I vowed to her that she would come to no harm as long as I’m with her,” Jamie replied, voice soft but hard as iron. “I willna sleep easy tonight unless I know she’s safe. And he willna lay a finger on her.”

“And what’s your alternative, then?”

The room erupted in laughter at the conclusion of another of Angus’ ribald jokes.

“Me. I will offer her myself.”

Murtagh’s eyes narrowed. “Ye’d do that for the Sassenach? Truly?”

“I must. And I will.”

And he quietly padded toward the stairs, slowly taking them one by one to the landing just by where Claire slept. Light seeped under the door – she was awake, then. Slowly, carefully he wrapped himself in his plaid, settled right up against the door, and gently lay one hand on the warped wood of the door. Bidding her the gentle goodnight he so wished to find the courage to tell her in person. Steeling himself for what would come in the morning. Grounding himself in her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This picks up where the first chapter left off
> 
> Originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](http://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/142464340782/i-know-it-was-just-posted-but-i-love-the-story) on tumblr

It wasn’t until Jamie had locked the door behind them that Claire realized what had happened.

She stood a few paces into the room, facing the bed - the sheets all rumpled from where she’d slept the night before, and arisen - was it only an hour ago? - when she heard Black Jack Randall’s hoofbeats in the dooryard.

She felt, rather than heard, Jamie behind her, standing quietly. Breathing.

Dear God - what had they done?

Slowly she turned to face him. His chest was rising and falling with short, shallow breaths. He licked his lips, twisting his fingers. She wanted so badly to say something, anything - but couldn’t.

Silence - heavy and awkward, bloomed between them.

What had she done?

“Jamie?”

Startled, he cleared his throat, his eyes piercing hers. Heady. “Aye?” he rasped.

She wiped suddenly sweaty palms on the think creases of her skirt. “Are we - are we married? I’m not familiar with handfasting.”

He flushed - a lovely, dusky color creeping from the open neck of his shirt almost all the way to his hairline. “Ach. Weel - yes, and no. Handfasting - it’s traditionally used when there is no priest about, to make the vows formal. It’s valid for a year and a day.”

Claire bravely stepped closer. “And what happens after the year and the day are finished?”

He swallowed. She tore her gaze from his, and watched the fingers of his left hand tap restlessly against the wool of his kilt.

“The man and woman can choose to be wed properly, or they can go their separate ways.”

She took another step closer. “Tell me, Jamie. Am I your wife now?”

He moved from his position against the door and came to stand directly in front of her. Gently he took her hand - her right hand, and softly, tenderly traced the pad of his thumb around the base of her right ring finger. Where, God willing, she’d one day wear his ring.

“If ye’ll have me,” he breathed, mesmerized by the exquisite softness of her skin. “If ye want us to live as husband and wife. It’s no’ up to me.”

Her palm straightened against his touch, and she brought the heel of her palm directly against his. Captivated, he twined their fingers together, squeezing tightly.

“But I thought that was what we did downstairs - that we have to live as husband and wife. That we have to - to consummate.”

Her voice wavered a bit - but her eyes, so strong, so brave, still held his.

“I’ll never do anything ye dinna wish to, Claire,” he said, so softly she could barely hear.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand -”

He tore his eyes from hers and watched, mesmerized, as his thumb circled the backs of her knuckles. “It’s only the two of us in here, Claire. We have the rest of the day to ourselves. I willna force ye to do anything ye dinna wish to. Ye have to bear my name for the next year and day, but if ye wish to go back to being Claire Beauchamp after that, I’ll no’ stop ye. If ye dinna wish to lie wi’ me today, I willna force ye. If ye dinna wish to sleep in my bed once we return to Leoch, I will find another chamber in which to live.”

He wanted so badly to just hold her, crush her body to him, bury his face in her neck. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“I want to give ye choices, Claire. The gift of choice. To choose whether to live as my wife, or live on yer own. I’ll protect ye to the last drop of blood in my body, I swear to ye I will. That won’t change, no matter what ye decide. And if ye choose another man - well, it would be verra hard for me, but I’d understand.”

His eyes were tightly shut now, relishing the miracle of her skin against his. Steeling himself for the rejection.

But it never came. Because Claire was overcome with the affection and bravery and gallantry and selflessness of the man before her - this amazing, thoughtful, courageous, quick-thinking man who had just saved her life. And who was willing - quite clearly - to do whatever it took to ensure her safety.

So she tilted up his chin, waited for his beautiful eyes to open and lock with hers, and slowly, slowly moved in for a kiss.

—–

Dusk. Sunbeams of orange and yellow and pink knifed through the dirty windowpane.

In the dooryard, Rupert sang to the horses. Angus cursed at Willie.

In the bed, Jamie dreamed.

At the window, Claire drew Jamie’s plaid tighter around her shoulders. Reflective.

He was - had been - a virgin. She smiled, feeling so wanton at how they’d spent the day learning each other, exploring and teasing. Laughing.

He had told her everything about himself - his name, clan, and family. What he had overheard Dougal saying the night before. Why he had slept, cold and uncomfortable, outside her door last night.

She had told him everything about herself. About her parents, and Uncle Lamb. And Frank. And the stones.

He didn’t understand it - but he listened. Asked very good questions. And then held her tighter against him, as if anchoring her to him here, on this day, in this time.

And then he’d kissed the bruises on her belly that Randall had made two days prior. Promised her that she’d never have to see him again, that he’d keep her safe for the rest of their days, if she’d let him.

She would. He had already done more - and proven that he would do more, if need be - than Frank ever would. Ever could.

Claire turned away from the window and just watched Jamie for a long moment. He looked like a young boy - hair tousled, limbs askew.

Her heart soared.

And then he woke, slowly eased himself up on his elbows, and smiled at her.

“Ye look like an angel, crowned wi’ light,” he said softly, voice full of awe.

She swiftly padded over to the bed and sat on his lap, wrapping the plaid around both of them. Bringing them close. Sheltering them from the world.

“I have something to tell you.”

His brow furrowed, but he steadied his face. Ready for anything, after the unbelievable events that this day - the most terrifying and exhilarating day of his life - had brought.

“Oh, aye? What is it?”

She met his eyes - and took a deep breath.

“Yes.”

Beneath the plaid, his thumb gently traced the arch of her hipbone. “Yes what?”

She sat up a bit straighter, and her face split into a smile.

“Yes, Jamie. Yes, I’ll live as your wife-”

She wanted to add “if you’ll have *me*” - but couldn’t, as Jamie’s lips had already stolen her breath.


End file.
